The Chambers Legacy
by LadyGertrude
Summary: He died tragically and suddenly leaving behind a family who were left to put the pieces back together on their own. Written in FIRST PERSON; his widow.
1. Chapter 1

**And so it goes another lonely day, you're saving time but you're miles away**.

'_**Opportunity'**_**- Pete Murray**

It's been many months since Christopher's tragic passing and his scent is still embed into our bed sheets after three hundred and sixty one nights without him there. After you've lost someone, pointless objects that were beforehand worthless such as a glass or a particular towel of theirs can turn to be the most treasured items. For me, it's the bed sheets. I've only changed them twice in ten months, and the clean ones in the linen closet still smell like Christopher! It's sweet but masculine scent fills the linen closet and every time I open it I fear it will float away and never come back. When his scent fades away and surely, it will I will be sleeping alone for the rest of my life. They say that scent is the strongest link to memory and I am terrified of forgetting the tiniest thing about my husband. When I smell him I remember the feel of his hands upon my shoulders, his slender fingers brushing my hair back from my face. I can hear echoes of his laugh when he was nervous, his laugh when he was amused and the tiny little laugh he would let escape when he was pretending to be amused out of politeness. I can see his face and how it would always light up when our children would walk through the door as they came home from school.

A friend of my late husband, Gordon Lachance dedicated a novel of his to Chris and it was the most beautiful gesture I've known anyone to offer. He sent to me his book titled _"The Body"_ and told me that it was the Christopher he knew and will always remember. Gordon inspired me, and although I hadn't seen him in a long time I was filled with this strength that came from somewhere else and I know it wasn't just Gordon's kind words and sympathies. It was from Christopher and I will believe that until I am on my deathbed.

The night he died, I remember the shock that surged through my bones as our 112 pound Bullmastiff came barrelling through the house, barking at the door.

"Brandy!" I yelled at our tawny coloured dog. She sniffed indignantly but stood at the door in alertness as she could sense that something wasn't right. Brandy was always the gentlest and most docile dog you would ever meet despite her large size. Visitors usually cower away in fright from her enthusiastic welcome but she has never frightened me. Brandy has always been my big baby and I call her my _'Beba'_ but that particular night was the first and only time she had scared me as she looked up at me with her big brown eyes, I could see the white around them and she bore her teeth as she sniffed at the gap underneath the door in determination.

I thought it was her sensing Chris coming home, perhaps he was just at the end of our street which is Endeavour Lane and I thought nothing more of it until bright unfamiliar lights pulled up the driveway.

Two police officers came to our seaside abode and as I led them inside my home they told me to take a seat. For the second time in my life, the world around me stopped and then pressed play. The woman officer held her hand out to me, "Ma'am?" She asked me if I was alright. I couldn't believe what I just heard. I thought that I missed something she said.

"I'm sorry to ask this, but we need to have his body identified." I broke down. I was a wasted machine beyond repair. My life was over.

He looked like he had just before he left the house that night. He had blue baggy jeans, his black and white checkered shirt was half tucked in and his hair was slightly cocked up. There was only one thing that changed it all. He was dead.

To tell the truth I half expected to see him sit up in front of me and laugh as though it were a nasty prank that I would surely had made him sleep on the couch for, but it didn't happen. He was still and cool. Death had already sunk itself into his body, pulling him away from me and his children.

_The children!_ I kept thinking. What on earth was I going to say to the kids?

Elizabeth is the oldest of our Chamber's Clan. Elizabeth just turned seventeen and is a splitting image of her grandmother Chambers. Then there's Samuel or Sam as he prefers. He's the darkest of his siblings, most of his features are mine taking after his Mediterranean ancestry. The youngest is our baby, Angela who had just turned eleven.

We had both planned on having a large family, Chris wanted five kids and I didn't mind. We stopped trying after our second, Sam was born. We were expecting twins during this pregnancy but in the last few days of carrying them something went wrong and I was in persistent and agonizing pain.

Labour was induced and we were so sure that two girls were going to be delivered, so by the time Samuel came into the world we didn't know what to name him. I remember the moment when he came out of me, Chris gasped and I thought something terrible had happened. He looked down at me lying on the delivery table with a twinkle in his eye and he smiled weakly as we locked eyes until I felt tears drip from my cheeks. That was the only thing I remember feeling during the labour, I was completely numb both emotionally and physically. Then little Samuel started crying and my heart started beating again.

Samuel lost his twin sister not long after their birth and I only have the one photograph of us together in hospital. To this very day, we never got the courage to tell him the truth but the look in his eyes told us that he has known all along.

We named our baby after the doctor who saved mine and Samuel's lives. Chris didn't want to have it any other way. It was our way of thanks to the man who saved a family.

After the loss of Gabrielle, as we had named her I didn't have the heart to carry any more children. It was so painful to think that we could just move on without her. I carried her to almost full term, I fed her and Chris sang to her- She was one of us for a short precious while and was taken too soon.

More than five years later, we had a few too many beers at a work function and then nine months later little Angela joined our family. He loved his kids so much! He never would have left us this way if he had the choice.

My brother took me home after I saw his body. Sam met me at the bottom of the stairs, he just held me as we cried together until the morning light broke through. I recognised that some point during that night, he had a defining moment of him turning into a man. My baby boy was so brave for all of us.

Angela! Our little baby Angie didn't understand what happened to her daddy.

_"Mama? When's daddy coming home?"_ She asked a few days after his death. Her dark golden hair shone like her fathers under her nightlight as she sat up in her bed. I told her that he wasn't, but she still didn't understand. I said that he was with God and all of his friends who had gone to heaven before him. She drifted off to sleep with my stories of the angels who came to earth and took daddy away with them to heaven where there was no pain and endless love. Where he would watch over us and protect us as he always has and he waits for us in heaven.

I was strong for the kids, but inside I was breaking. The nights are the worst. They're cold, quiet and lonely. I still need him here with me! I want to hear him snore in his sleep. He snored! My Lord, he could snore!

There were nights where I would wish that he would shut up, just for one night and give me some peace and quiet. We'd argue most nights when I would shake him awake and tell him to stop snoring, which he never believed he did. But now I just realised how comforting it was to hear him there, next to me deep in his sleep while snoring away because then I knew he was breathing. His lungs were taking in oxygen. Blood was flowing through his warm veins and his heart beating- alive.

_"He's dead. Chris is dead." _I say out loud into the silence of the night and listen to my echo in disbelief. I can't believe my own words. "_Chris is dead._ _He's not coming home." _

When the tears begin to flow they don't stop. I never know how to stop them and after I think they have gone away, the tears just keep falling.

I didn't know how to feel when it first happened, and I still don't although I pretend to. A part of me still believes that he's coming home. I still wait to hear his car pull up in the driveway, the sound of him throwing his keys and wallet on the entrance table carelessly and his footsteps hurrying up the staircase and he will find me waiting for him.

I can't look at his loss and think of his life as a gift because he shouldn't have died. Having lost him has shattered my faith. He should be here with me right now! He should be sitting across from me at the dining table next to Elizabeth and Sam with Angie in between as we have dinner. He should be here with us, right where he belongs!

Twenty two years with this man and I gave him my heart, body and soul. I bore his children and gave him his family. This is such a painful consequence of love, and who is stupid enough to love someone so immensely? I wish it was me that was in that fight, he would cope so much better than me in this situation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Your fly was drowning in some bitter tea for seeing lost opportunity.**

'**Opportunity' – Pete Murray**

_"Chris, don't forget the fill the car with petrol on your way home, because you won't have enough to get to work and back tomorrow morning. This time, don't forget to ask for diet coke with the order, not that other kind you know how it makes me feel sick afterwards. Have you got your wallet? Have you got the right keys?_ _Ok, seeya."_

I followed at his heel, screeching in his ear as he headed towards the front door.

_"Not if I see you first." _

They were the last words he uttered before walking through the front door and they were the last words he would have ever spoken to me. I thought it was strange since he hadn't said that in years but I just smiled and blew him a quick kiss anyway. Looking back it all seemed so ironic.

His last words were typically Chris. I'm glad they were the last words I heard, but "I love you, honey." Would have been nice too.

I know how I spoke to him, ordering him around like that. How could he love me? I often wondered to myself. If I didn't specifically want diet coke, would he have come home? What if the car didn't need petrol? Perhaps he would have just missed the brawl. I nearly killed myself finding ways to find is death as my fault because if it was, I didn't have anyone but myself to hate.

But I have found hate in my heart.

The outpouring love and sympathies that my family and I received from the Haven community, in which we lived was unreal. I couldn't accept it.

It had been only hours, perhaps one day at the most since his death and I woke up to Roses on the doorstep. Roses. Un-fucking-believable!

Phone call after phone call I gave in to the despair. Our town was missing him, and I felt like I wasn't allowed to.

"I'm fine." Was all I said at first? Seriously, but who the hell believed that?

It wasn't until I looked in my reflection I stopped kidding myself. "I'm fine?" I was not fucking fine at all!

Upstairs I have three children in their rooms who are now facing a future without their Dad, who as always there. He didn't chose to leave us, and that was the painful thing.

My bed, still unmade and his indent still in the mattress. His shoes are still at the end of our bed, waiting for his feet to slip inside them at the end of the afternoon.

Our dog, is sitting with the chew toy he bought her for Christmas in her mouth.

I found his socks tucked in behind the sofa cushion. _"That dirty prick!" _I said aloud, looking around me before holding them to my face.

I was breathing in his essence. Any remaining factor of his life- smelly socks or not I didn't care!

This happened because some lowlife- a selfish, vile and indescribably disreputable person- if you could even call him that took away a husband, a father, best friend, brother, son, cousin with the blade of his knife in one simple unthoughtful act of violence.

That's all it took.

That fine print I read at the table one morning in the newspaper 'ATTOURNEY CHRISTOPHER CHAMBERS FATALLY STABBED IN RESTAURRANT' sunk it in. Deep.

Then these began to flood the newspapers;

**IN MEMORIAM**

**CHAMBERS, **Christopher

"Life is not forever, but my love for you is."

In memory of my loving husband, his beautiful image remains in the smiles of our children.  
>My heart is forever yours.<p>

**CHAMBERS, **Christopher

Your kindness, wisdom and caring ways will never be forgotten.  
>We will miss you.<p>

Regards,  
>THE HAVEN COMMUNITY<p>

**CHAMBERS, **Christopher

It's true when they say only the good die young.

Keep the seat next to you warm, Buddy. I will see you soon enough.

Your best friend – Gordon Lachance

**CHAMBERS, **Christopher

I will grow up with the memory of the warm and loving person you were in my heart. I am proud to be your daughter and there will never be a day that I won't think of you and miss you.

Until we meet again, I love you Daddy.

-Elizabeth Marie

**CHAMBERS, **Christopher

Life goes on but precious memories stay near and dear.

Your gentle and kind nature has been forever imprinted in our hearts.  
>You were loved so much by our Daughter- your wife.<p>

The best son in law we could have asked for. You were a great father and husband.

Love, Mr and Mrs M.

**CHAMBERS,** Christopher

Taken far too soon, there was so much more for you to see. You will be sorely missed.

**CHAMBERS,** Christopher

Chillin' up in heaven with the big guy now. I hope your questions now have been answered.

I cried.

He was loved so much and I am filled with hatred.

I hate him for leaving me, he could have held on, right? Maybe just a few minutes until the paramedics arrived. He could have kept breathing, ignored the pain- anything!

I knew him as a man that could do absolutely ANYTHING. Then, why couldn't he have lived?

Months would pass until I could grasp that concept of the science of blood and the heartbeat. Rationality would finally settle in. He just couldn't have survived the attack.


	3. Chapter 3

**Find your mirror go and look inside, see the talent you always hide. Don't go kidd yourself, well not today. Satisfaction's never far away. **

'**Opportunity' – Pete Murray**

Warm morning sunlight was welcomed inside and it seeped through the open windows. It reflected intensely from the peach coloured walls of our bedroom and the glass framed photographs that were set up on my bureau glimmered in the brightness.

My eyes snapped open.

A tiny movement from deep inside stirred me from my sleep and a hand protectively grazed against my forming belly. A baby was growing inside me, her fluttering movements tickled my insides so much I couldn't help but laugh. My grasp on my stomach tightened in affection as if to cradle my baby and tell her how much I already loved her. The thought brought tears to my eyes and I kissed my fingertips and held them to her.

My hand traced the entire bump, and then stopped when I brushed against something- another hand.

I became suddenly aware of the heaviness behind my back, I wasn't alone in my bed this morning much to my surprise and my whole chest exploded with love when I looked over my shoulder and Chris was facing me fast asleep, his mouth partly open. His breathing was heavy, just slightly snoring every time he inhaled deeply.

His arm draped over me like an extra protective blanket that I couldn't usually sleep without. I didn't even notice when he wrapped his arms around me anymore because I always expect it. His big wide palm stretched across the lower part of my abdomen, feeling for our baby as well. I grabbed is fingers and interlocked them with my own before settling down and laying into the curve of his body.

Then the snoring stopped. The warmth was gone. My stomach was flat, well as flat as a forty year old mother of three's stomach could be and there was no sign of pregnancy. The bed was empty, just like nobody was ever there before.

My eyes snapped open and saw nothing but the dark of the night.

I think God is dead. I don't know what to believe in now, I'm not even sure if I believe in an afterlife. Even if God was alive, what do you think he does with our souls?

I'd like to keep Chris' soul if I could, I'd like to possess even just a sprinkle of his faith to get me through the days right now.I wish I could hear his soft whisper in my ear. If I can't see him, or can't hear him I want to feel him. God won't give me that. Seeing him in my dreams is torture enough as it is.

I've read about spirits haunting their families and loved ones in dreams and through psychic communication but I've never given into the desperation of doing that to myself- or Chris.

Dreams are just dreams, I tell myself after I wake up from seeing him again. It's just a memory, I'm not actually seeing him. Valium helps me sleep as well.

My mother keeps telling me its separation anxiety and that we'd been very dependant on one another for total companionship, but it's not a bad thing, right? My panic attacks and dreams are supposedly due to the fear and anticipation of the unknown in a world in which life will have no meaning. But what do psychologists know? My life has plenty of meaning, but I just don't know where to go from here.

It's almost been a year since I last kissed my husband and the last I saw of him he was as cool as stone. His lips weren't the usual warm, yummy pink that he always kissed me with and his breath wasn't the usual mixture of cigarettes and juicy fruit flavoured gum. There was no breath to smell or taste.

That image won't escape my waking thoughts, at least the unconscious images I see in sleep are beautiful memories of the man who once was.

I'm frantic to go back to sleep! I can only sleep for majority of four hours a night and the rest of the time I am staring at the ceiling but tonight I need to sleep. My mind is exhausted and I don't blame it for the images I just dreamed. Nothing had ever felt so real in a dream before. I could have sworn he was there beside me, because I never sleep on his side.

My eleven year old used to cry in the middle of the night because she kept seeing him in the doorway and it used to upset Sam so much that he moved into her bedroom with her until she finally stopped. Now I guess it's my turn to go crazy with grief.

But there's nobody here to share rooms with me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hold on, now your exit is here waiting just for you. Don't pause too long it's fading now. It's ending all too soon, you'll see.**

'_**Opportunity**_**' – Pete Murray**

Sam had always been a light sleeper. The slightest noise would wake him up, and when he was a baby, Chris and I couldn't do so much as to sigh when he was sleeping but luckily as he got older he didn't fuss so much. Now, my sixteen year old was asleep on the couch with the television blaring with some punk music video on the screen. I turned it off and he didn't budge, he looks so vulnerable. You can never see his emotions written on his face, he's tough like me but when I look at him sleeping like he is right now, I can see the trauma he'd been suffering etched in his skin. He didn't look sixteen anymore but more like an adult whose seen the ugliness of the big world. My baby shouldn't have to know of this yet, but he already does.

One thing he never realises he does, is that he cradles the left side of his body with his right arm. He's doing it again- something he'll never notice or understand why. That's how he and Gabrielle used to lay together, with her arm wrapped around his side like that.

I can see them now, and if I close my eyes and picture it I can even remember the sound of her little cries. Her tiny plump hand slumped across Sam's belly unawares. It was the most beautiful thing we had ever witnessed in our whole lives together, we created these two glowing angelic twins looking up at us in complete awe. I always knew that he was aware of what he was and will always be _a twin- _One of the most magnetic relationships in the world.

I think I remember where I had placed the old photograph of Chris, Gabrielle, Sam and I together on the day of their birth. I hadn't looked at it in years, it was a sore topic to think about but now it's becoming more familiar again. God's taken two of his angels away from me - but if someone out there needs them more than I did, I just hope they love them more than I ever could.

I just have the need to see Gabrielle's once perfect face again, and Chris' proud smile that showed all of his teeth. The almost tattered picture had been left and forgotten like a dirty secret that needed burying. One day a few years back, I placed the picture between a folded sheet of tissue paper and hid it underneath the Sicilian hand crafted jewellery box mum handed down to me on my wedding day and swore to never look for it again.

But today, my mind trailed upstairs and into my bedroom where in the far right corner, in front of the wide opened window sat my wooden dresser. Atop of the dresser, in between three silver framed photos and a glass vase of pink roses was my mother's precious jewellery box. I was just about to go upstairs and pull out the ageing photograph and reminisce an old time before I had anything to lose, before I had a family to love and children to worry about. I gasped in shock when I realised how morbid my life is turning and Sam turned to his side, murmuring something non intelligible.

His dirty white and stained brown socks hung over the arm of the couch limply. My boy is going to be very tall when he's full grown- the typical Chambers gene. I threw a blanket on my son and turned off the television; he smiled gratefully in his sleep and snuggled under the crotched material.

It was unusual for me to be awake at this time. The afternoon sun was settling in the sky for another few good hours and my restlessness couldn't be maintained.

The drugs made me numb on my best days and today was in between, but I can tell I'm improving. I was especially restless early this afternoon when I awoke; I couldn't stand the thought of not doing anything! They make me get up and want to clean and do things around the house but I won't leave the house. I can't leave this place and I haven't left in a good couple of weeks.

Upstairs, I close the door and pull out the picture from beneath the black box and I see my baby again. Gabrielle Dawn Chambers, we had named her. Dawn was Christopher's grandmother's name and some of the best memories of his childhood were of her and he owed her his respect. _'She made me the man I am today.' _He smiled and kissed the top of Gabrielle's head after he named her with honour.

He had told me of the times she made strawberry jam with him and fed him spoon full's of sugar for supper. They sometimes stayed up all night together playing poker and scrabble on the back porch with a tiny night light. She read to him 'Nicholas Nickleby' twelve times and taught him to _always say please. _She died before he was thirteen but it appeared that his memories of her were as vivid as ever when Chris would lean his back comfortably and smile gently as he told his stories with fondness and complete and utter love for this special woman seeping through his words. It almost made me jealous and wonder how he talked about me.

Minutes before this tiny picture was taken by an obliging midwife Chris sang gently cradling our newborn daughter in his arms while I couldn't tear my gaze away from Samuel's tiny face. _"Hey pretty baby…" _He hummed with a smile glued to his face. We were complete- Elizabeth was at home with my family, she was too young to understand what new arrivals were waiting to come home to _Banyandah- _our home by the seaside.

The sun's gone and hidden behind a cloud. The air turns stiff and cool while I place the photograph back into its rightful position.

If I listen closely through the silence of the house, Chris could be heard talking to me. A memory of him, nothing more, nothing less.

"_I wish you didn't do this,"_ Chris complained when he caught me hiding the small picture one morning. _"Don't make yourself feel worse."_ He crossed the bedroom in his underwear and took it from me and held it in his hands. He held his eyes low while staring at the photograph; wrinkles were carving themselves under his eyes and around the corner of his mouth, he looked so tired. Without a word he wrapped it gently back into the tissue paper with trembling hands and handed it back to me. He kissed me on the cheek before continuing to get dressed. That was the day Angela was conceived. A special moment shared between husband and wife where our eyes locked from across the room sharing a secret, it was more than that now that I think about it. It was a message from God saying that we were yet to be complete.


	5. Chapter 5

**Your coffee is warm, but the milk is sour.**

'_**Opportunity**_**' – Pete Murray**

In the passing months, sleeping had become much easier. I'm now staying awake later in the night without need of meds and I can sleep all the way through the night now, until about mid-morning. The kids, the sweethearts that they are, check in on me while they get ready for school, poking their heads through the door which is always left ajar. A thin line of light streams through the tiny gap, which shadows their faces, so I can never see the face but I know which one of my babies walks past.

Chris hated sleeping with the door open. I hated sleeping with the door closed. After the birth of my babies I needed to hear every creak in the walls, every cough they would make, every huff they would sigh, so we made a compromise. That's what every great marriage is about, right?

"Ma," Elizabeth whispered while she told me that Angela was ready for school. I was instantly awake and hopped out of bed, not a tired thought in mind. The cold floor was a shock against the soles of my bare feet as I walked on the glossy floorboards and bent down to kiss my youngest child goodbye before the school bus arrived. She smiled and edged herself a way, slightly embarrassed. "I love you mama."

She really is growing up.

The thought of her edging towards her teenage years scared the hell outta me, but I managed to convince myself that I had a few years left yet but she was a mature little piece of work with a snippy attitude which, unfortunately I recognised within myself when I was that age. Chris would have just hated it, probably more so than with Elizabeth, who was the most agreeable and gentle natured one of the bunch. Elizabeth was her father all over, and I was so proud of that. The world needs more golden souls like theirs.

Without a doubt of my mind I knew that Sam had been on breakfast duty as soon as I walked into the kitchen. I rolled my eyes at the sight of the mess. The toaster had not been put away back into the cabinet, bread crumbs trailed all the way down the kitchen bench and dishes stacked neatly but left unwashed right in the middle of the sink.

I was back to my normal self these days, housework became a joy again as I love looking after my home. Without work in the past three years, I put all my efforts into my house, _Banyandah._

I made the wind chime (amongst many other things) that sat in front of the large kitchen window out of sea shells collected by Haven Cove, the beach which was located at the end of our street. We lived just metres away from the most beautiful beach in all of Maine.

Unbeknownst to me as of why, an all too familiar song rang in my head and the tune rolled itself from my lips,

_"Will you still love me tomorrow?"_

Chris and I shared our first dance to it. He spun me around underneath the vibrant diner lights as it played from the jukebox one Friday night at the old Blue Point, one hand entwined in mine the other holding a cigarette.

It was our song, kind of morbid, I know. But it was our song. The two of us were never anything like anybody else, together we were our own. We made our own world.

_"Tonight with words unspoken, you say that I'm the only one, but will my heart be broken when the night meets the morning sun…"_

I was just getting my groove back on, shaking my old, round big Mama's butt when a shudder from the adjacent room shook me out of it.

Brandy wandered in the kitchen by my side and looked up at me with her big brown eyes, they looked somewhat sad. She stood almost at my waist for she was a big tall girl.

They say that most dogs look like their owner but her height and her eyes or her face resembled absolutely nothing in me after all; I am not a bullmastiff, thank you very much!

"_Beba… kako se?" _I asked her expectantly, just like she could answer me. I always spoke to her in my native language, Bosnjaki. Nobody else in the house would understand or be able to reply with a single word of it, although Chris had learned a fair bit over time. He made a great effort to learn my language and I appreciated it, I was so proud of him when he shocked my family by holding an entire conversation with my father in only Bosnjaki.

Another noise echoed from the living room, rattling me once again from my memory of that day. Brandy groaned and howled at the same time, she was not impressed. With her tail between her legs, she trudged her way into the living room where just minutes before a similar crashing sound occurred.

_Okay,_ I thought to myself. Brandy is worried. Now, I'm scared. She senses something…

My eyes scanned the room. There was nothing. Relief surged through me.

"Oh, you big baby!" I scolded her in a light manner and turned back to finish the dishes but something in front of the piano caught my eye.

It was only shattered glass. A photo just fell. That's all it was.

Facedown, it lay on top of shattered glass. Its gold frame was in pieces too.

Inscribed writing in neat cursive lettering was on the back of the picture, and I knew instantly what had fallen. My heart stopped. Fingertips tingling, I reached down to it and read;

_Christopher Chambers & Lucrezia __Manojilovic __  
><em>_Soul mates bound in matrimony October 1968  
>'From this day forward, you will not walk alone.<br>My heart will be your shelter. My arms will be your home.'_

I flipped over the aging photograph, my hair was so long! Blue-black and down to my waist, I was known for and recognised by that hair. I hated it so much. Every girl I knew would die for it. The white veil was almost translucent as it sat on top of my hair. I love how candid the photograph was, that's why I kept it.

Christopher and his best man, Gordon stood with their hands in their pockets sharing a knowing look at one another, my head was thrown back laughing. I don't remember what was so funny at the time, but the picture itself was a private joke that nobody would ever understand. Not even those in it.

A sweet aroma filled my senses as I swept up the shards of glass. Slightly like watermelon, it was fruity. Manly. Christopher.

I stopped everything I was doing. Not even the ticking of the clock could be heard. The room felt different. Warmer. I could feel my cheeks turning red.

"Chris?"

I sat still and listened to silence. The clock had even stopped ticking. The wind outside had stopped blowing. All movement ceased. I swear I heard a voice.

_Remember how I proposed? _A melodious voice, almost like music to my ears spoke.

I'm crazy. I told myself. Did I just hear something? I had to rethink what just happened, after telling myself several times what I just heard. I had to reply.

" I hated you and thought you were joking." I actually replied.

I thought Chris was joking when he asked me to marry him. Then the look in his eyes, when I realised he loved me. Christopher Chambers loved me entirely, I grabbed for his hands with numb fingers. My fingertips were tinging.

"You always surprised me."

I'm talking to no-one.

But if I was, why did the sound of laughter bounce off the walls?

"Chris? Is that you?" I fiddled with my fingers, feeling numbness spread through from the fingertips like they had on that day.

The room jumped back to life again. The warmth faded without warning and Brandy walked back through the room again completely un-phased.

I looked down at her looking back up at me.

"I'm going crazy." I said to her.

But inside my head, I wondered back to the inscription and said to myself _'You will never walk alone.' _

Never walk alone.


	6. Chapter 6

**"Life is short but you're here to flower, dream yourself along another day."**

'_**Opportunity**_**'- Pete Murray**

The rest of the day carried on as per usual. I had taken Brandy for her daily walk along the beach, it was becoming a daily tradition we both looked forward to each afternoon. The wind had strengthened, almost blowing me off my feet. The sea breeze told me the seasons were changing. Seaweed was clogging up on the usually clear shore, only barely getting washed halfway out before the new waves returned them at my feet as I walked along the coastline. My bare feet were almost numb as I dug my toes into the wet grainy sand; it wasn't the usual white sand, it was almost grey. Winter was brewing in the air. The smell of the sea was thick, I could taste the salt. It was refreshing. As much as it cleansed my body, filled my lungs with freshness and cold air it washed my thoughts and doused my soul in cold water, and scrubbed my mind in salt. I felt new every time I came down here. But I always walked up the sand dunes, and stood at the end of Endeavour Lane the same way I left. Empty.

A part of me, as silly as it sounds still expected to see him at the end of our street, laughing at my windswept hair. His memory, this same memory haunted me every time I reached the top of the dunes. The same sinking in my heart cursed me too; I knew he would never be standing there. But I always sadly hoped.

I dragged my still bare feet along the bitumen road, with the pitter-patter of Brandy's paws trotting beside me faithfully.

Elizabeth had come home from school early, wanting some quiet time at home to finish her assignments and I helped her study while making dinner. I looked at the clock, it was almost four in the afternoon and I felt relief flood my veins. I had made it through another day without him, and I was constantly finding more and more things to do with my days.

One less day to endure.

No more strange moments happened again as of yet. I chose to ignore it and never mention it to anyone. I needn't bother my poor brother or sister in law with my bizarre hallucinations. They were probably a side affect of the medication I had been dosed with anyway. It was my little secret. Mine and Chris'.

My attention was drawn to a photograph I had found in a drawer earlier on today. After the wedding photograph had fallen down, I gave into the urge of rummaging through old photographs. It's depressing how one doesnt realise how times have changed until they face their reflection and contrast it against a twenty year old photograph of themself.

I remember myself years ago before marriage, before Christopher. I was so tough. I was independent and fierce; there was anger inside me I couldn't locate within me but I always felt it there. Where had this strong girl gone? She was still there lurking underneath my skin. She was the one holding these thoughts together, driving me insane at night. But she was gone by the time daylight hit, I was weak and scared during the daytime hours alone. When I met Christopher he had tamed the wild beast within me, then I had found peace within his love. Now he was gone. Who was I?

Right now at this moment I was a chubby, tired looking woman. Cold eyes and a sad posture aged me by decades. My hair had seen healthier days, as well as my weight. Somewhere, the old fighter in me was hiding. I wish she could show herself. Moments like this she seems like a whole different person in a different body. Still, we were the same.

A small part of me was waiting for another encounter, some form of connection I felt like this morning. Just to reassure me he was still here that I wouldn't be alone. That he couldn't leave me alone. For my own selfish reasons I didn't want him to move on, he should stay here until I was ready too. I had been ready since I saw his body in the morgue, so cold and silent.

_"Don't you rest until I can find you again."_

It wasn't until I heard later on the next evening from the living room the small whisper of Angie and a familiar laugh.

There are some things that are easily forgotten like the name of a person you briefly met, and there are some things that stay etched in your memory for the rest of your life. Chris had that sort of laugh that was unforgettable to everyone who knew him.

I could tell his laugh anywhere. Soft bouncy chuckles flew around the room sending goosebumps down my spine.

Angie must have sensed me listening in because her muttering stopped.

"Who you talking to baby?" I asked, peeking my head into the living room not wanting to interrupt.

Her piercing blue eyes widened in shock before shaking her head fiercely. "Nobody Mama." She stuttered before turning her half attention to the television screen.

I scanned the room, it was just her and her favourite stuffed toy snuggled on the couch under a throw blanket. No shadows. No other movements.

"Do you miss Daddy?" I asked, gently taking a seat beside her.

A frown covered her face, she paused looking for words. "Sometimes." She muttered without tearing her eyes off the television screen.

"Sometimes?"

"When I see him, it isn't the same?"

"Where do you see him sweetie?"

She didn't answer.

Just months ago we had her sleeping in her own bed again, her dreams of seeing him were finally gone and she was beginning to settle herself down, and she was beginning to spend more time at school.

Frustration was beginning to get the better of me, I had to clench my jaw shut grating my teeth. We couldn't afford to have two crazy people in the family. I was afraid I was slowly going to lose my mind.

I tried explaining again that he wasn't ever going to come home, and that she couldn't possibly be seeing him.

"Ma!" She grabbed my arms and jumped on my lap. Her eyes weren't sad, they were adamant.

They travelled from commanding my attention, her eyes just like her fathers burned into my soul to the edge of the couch.

"He is still with us."

She had never dealt with loss before, and the first person she lost was her father. I tried to understand. Maybe she was telling the truth. Little Angie had a vivid imagination, apparently something inherited from me. I couldn't deal. Not tonight. I wish I never asked.

"No Angie. You know he's gone. Don't be silly. You're too old for this." Which was half true, she was too old for imaginary friends. And although she was brighter beyond her years, she was too young to know how to cope in this situation. Perhaps I was too, or perhaps I too had become so dependent on Chris to live without him.

Her hurt expression turned away from me without a word, and it broke my heart. I apologised. Still she replied with nothing.

I remembered the instance when I thought I heard him talking to me. The chills I felt. How reassured I was. I was scared, but also comforted. His scent, his voice. He wasn't mine alone to grieve for. I tried to tell myself as I looked at her. Angie turned her head away from me as I reached out to smooth back her golden hair. 'I love you!' I told her. A part of me wanted to pull her on my lap and hug her, and demand _'never leave me. Never grow up!'_

It was a warm summer's night and I knew I'd been here before. Call it déjà vu but it felt like a dream.

I knew it was the beginning of winter, I remembered the afternoon breeze at the beach, but the temperature had sky rocketed to that of a summer's night. Opening my eyes in frustration, I found that the ceiling fan was on.

I was in a cheap hotel, in a place that I can't quite remember. I know I've been here before, but I can't match the memory to the yellow walls and tattered curtains of the room. I felt almost paralysed, lying on the bed. My once long curls were spread around my head, fanned out on the pillows.

I could hear Christopher humming a familiar tune, The Rolling Stones _"This could be the last time, this could be the last time, maybe the last time I don't know..." – _He had a terrible voice but just hearing it had my heart throbbing just wanting to feel his skin. I jumped upright waiting for him. Breath sticking in my throat, lips dry. I tightened in arousal… there he was..

Chris exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel and his hair dishevelled, still humming. He stopped in his tracks, expression changing to sudden concern. He was almost twenty years younger, as was I.

"Look whose awake" He spoke soothingly, making his way towards me. My heart beat against my ribcage he could probably hear it. I wanted to moan his name, and have him hear me but I was almost in a trance. Taking his towel off and slipping next to me. I remembered where I was…

I traced the tattooed phoenix on his bicep as he leaned toward me, his arms swamping me in his strong embrace. The phoenix was his personal symbol of hope. The phoenix, he said, was a beautiful and elegant creature that would rise from its own ashes. Its existence questioned.

_Why was this man in love with me?_

We had no protection. He paused. I didn't want him to stop. Once he had me started, there was no stopping me. "Whats the worst that could happen?" I said between gasps of air.

He laughed and kissed me. "Wanna make a baby?" We laughed, and I pulled him towards me.

This was the night Elizabeth was conceived.

When I awoke, morning had not broken through yet and my body was stiff as a board. My heart rate trying to calm down from the lucid dreaming I had just done. Where was my phoenix?!

Chris was my phoenix. Every morning waking up next to him, was like a brand new beginning each day. I had to remind myself, as I would turn to my side to the beautiful creature cuddled to me- this was my husband. He was mine. I would tell myself and thank God.

I ached for him. It had been so long. His touch was so warm and soothing.

"Calm down." A soft voice cooed in my ear.

I was probably dreaming again, I tried to brush off the feeling of it and tried to go back to sleep.

From behind me, his warm hands reached over my side, sliding down, tracing the warmth of my stomach sending ripples of ecstacy throughout my body. I erupted in goosebumps, his jolly chuckle told me that he was satisfied with his efforts before turning me over with his strong hands into the warm arms that engulfed me. I reached to embrace him, no matter how close I was it was never close enough. I wanted more and more. Holding on…

Im surrounded in darkness.

"You're here?" I said, choking on my tears. Eyes searching through the empty space, straining to catch a glimpse of him or a shadow. But I couldn't. I waited. One second. Two…

I heard my name calling me.

"You never left me, did you."

"I couldn't."

"Im so lonely."

His scent filled the room.

"Youre never alone."

Something warm traced my shoulder. I was paralysed in agony. I ached so badly.

"Please!" I begged.

I was enveloped in warmth. How could he be so warm? I wanted to believe it was real. A groan escaped my mouth. Afraid I would scream with the urgency building inside me.

"Shhh"

Tickles over my skin. Goosebumps forming over goosebumps, I felt the love I thought I had lost. About to soak the sheets, I felt a sudden release. I moved in rhythm "Please don't leave me."

More desperately I tightened myself to him.

"Promise me." I clenched, unprepared to let him leave me. "Im begging you!" I tried to catch my breath. Trying to contain my thoughts. I couldn't think anything but _Chris! Chris!_

_Reply to me!_ I was desperate. I lost all clarity. Shaking all over, I clung to him.

"Don't let me go." He said with tears in his voice. "Lucy!" His weight was lifted from me.

I sobbed, reaching out I was exhausted holding on to him. He was gone. "Im so sorry!" I wept. I still ached so deeply within.

But I heard him echo my own plea. _"Im so sorry."_

Seconds had passed. What just happened? I reached around me. Nothing.

A moment of absolute clarity struck me. Never have I thought so clearly before in months. I knew I was losing myself.

The kids were never going to fully recover their loss. We were never going to fill our void.

We have got to move.

**dun dun dunnn Lol **


End file.
